


Touches

by Cur



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Insomnia, Past Sexual Assault, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, dick grayson has never once in his life coped properly, one (1) blowjob but minor, recovering, triggers! be careful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 09:09:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cur/pseuds/Cur
Summary: After Tarantula takes advantage of an anxious Dick Grayson, he's forced upon the path of recovery. Problem: he doesn't know how to cope.





	Touches

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i never meant to do anything with this work because it's so far very short and useless and poorly written. moreover, it's pretty uhh fucked. in 1996 nightwing, tarantula infamously (kinda) rapes dick during a panic attack. this is because she shot and killed his enemy, blockbuster, and he feels extremely guilty for letting him die. in the comics, for six months after, dick becomes consumed in his guilt and goes down a dark path, especially since bruce is "dead". i decided to add my own spin, and in 2019 and not in 1996. he works with jason (and later, probably others) to capture tarantula, and eventually he'll have to face that he was used.  
> fair warning, i do reference the assault in this chapter, and dick spirals and sleeps with random women. i wrote this at a weird time of the night so. it's probably very poorly written.

If he closes his eyes long and hard enough, he thinks, he can repress the turmoil crashing within him. So, he tries and, of course, it doesn’t work. Typically, it does, but… this was special. His blue eyes open and look into the mirror, forcing himself to look at the disfigured reality in its eyes. Thankfully, he looks better than he figures (but that isn’t really saying a lot); his hair is extremely unkempt and somewhat graying, and his eyes are puffy and red from sleep deprivation and from hot tears from the night before. “I didn’t kill him,” he mutters to himself.  _ Except that you basically did,  _ his inner monologue retorts.  _ Face it: you  _ wanted  _ him to die. Imagine would Bruce would say. You’re  _ such  _ a disappointment.  _ Dick grunts in irritation, and again closes his eyes. For a moment, he counts again, but he finds himself breathing unevenly again, and the memories burning in his mind even more than before. *Tarantula’s hands gripping his bare hips and pushing them down, and the way his vision blurred with his unsteady and frantic breaths. His hands lazily reached out to stop her, his mutterings of protest barely audible. Of course, it does nothing. Her hips buckle against his once she’s on top of him, and she moves quickly and painfully as he gags on his dry sobs and--*

Again, his eyes flash open, but he’s filled with panic more than guilt. What the fuck was that? Obviously, he knows he and Tarantula had sex, but… with the bruising on his hips and his tight chest, he starts to feel utterly disgusted by it--and not just because she had killed Blockbuster. Before he can get drenched in his own misery, he shakes his head dismissively and exits the bathroom. It definitely isn’t the first time he’s felt like this, and he’s confident it won’t be the last. Harley Quinn had made a mark of her own on him, drugging him at the ripe age of 18 and tying him up and pushing herself on him a few times (as far as he remembers, anyway) over the course of a few nights. He’s 23 now, and over it. Completely freakin’ over it. He’s over it, just like he soon will be over this.

Dick finds himself that night in bed besides some random woman. That felt a lot more right, but he still feels disgusting and dirty. She sits up, fluffing up her hair, and pulls out a cigarette. “You mind?”

“I, uh, would prefer if you took it outside,” he returns.

She stares at him for a moment, her green eyes seeming to pierce into him. “You seem like you need one.”

“I don’t--”

“C’mon, kid.”

Much to his surprise, his impulse follows him outside, and he takes the cigarette she so kindly offers.  _ Yuck.  _ He gags on the smoke, and coughs it out for fifteen solid seconds as the woman (Lucy, he  _ thinks _ ) laughs at him. They exchange a smile, but they fade out at the same time. “Thanks, kinda,” Dick says suddenly, a slight smile reappearing. “I mean, for the cigarette.”

She arches her eyebrows at him. “I thought you were thanking me for the sex,” she remarks. He opens his mouth to fumble something out, but she continues. “I’m  _ kidding,  _ but that wasn’t half bad.  _ Now  _ you can thank me.” They laugh, and again have a lingering glance. “Wanna go again? Not only am I still in the mood, but, Dick, you look pretty tense.” She pulls him forward by the strap of his boxers, and her spare hand grasps onto his already forming bulge. He gasps in surprise, and she smiles at him kind of viciously. “Out here?”

“Gee,” he returns breathlessly. “You weren’t kidding about being adventurous.” She chuckles as she pulls down his boxers, and soon, she’s swallowing him, and humming against him like it’s nothing. He leans against the fire escape’s railing and holds onto it, breathing in very sharply. Well, this is new, to say the least. The vigilante reaches down and grabs onto her hair, pulling her in closer, and buckles his hips. She’s somewhat startled by the movement, but recovers before he moves forward again and, soon, there’s a rhythm established before he’s through.

After a moment of her harshly swallowing, he lets go, and she stands up to face him. “Better?” She wonders.

He nods through his lightheadedness. “A little.” An awkward moment passed between them as they catch their breaths. “Should I get--?”

“No need. I’m clean and on the pill, unless you want to be safe.” Dick pauses for a moment, debating mentally. Well, he’s really doing this to comfort himself by disgusting himself (weird oxymoron, but easily the story of his life), but he doesn’t want to inconvenience her.

“I’ll get one.”

She nods in understanding, watching him as he pulls up his briefs (for some reason), and duck inside of his window.

***

His life doesn’t exactly improve nor change from that. Every morning, strangers’ hands reach for him, trying to get his attention, but it takes a while for him to force some energy. After a few kisses press into his neck, he turns, smiling slowly, and begins his daily performance. That’s all it is anymore -- that’s all  _ he  _ is. It takes a month before he realizes that, if anything, he felt worse. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe he deserved it. He let a man die-- innocent or not. Maybe he deserves to feel suffocated and used with every breath; maybe he deserves to feel like nothing; maybe he deserves to be nothing.

Idiot.

Dick runs a hand down his face, and tries and fails to suppress the sob that comes. It’s been two months. Emotions still feel as raw and cruel as they did when it initially happened. Hands reach for him and caress his sides, then roughly pull him in. Staggering breaths tremor out of him, and a dry “no” leaves him, but his lips collide with hers anyway, and her hands are down his pants, and he’s nothing still.

“You okay?”

The voice is surprisingly soft and comforting, given that it’s coming from Jason. Turning, Dick faces him, and offers a strained smile. Jason’s eyes are slightly widened, and flicker up and down him with worry he had not carried in  _ years.  _ Dick’s throat is raw with overuse, and his legs and hips are sore from the night prior. “Fine,” he responds. Fuck, he sounds so fragile. His brother’s eyebrows knit in worry, but he seems to catch the emotion and draw it back. “How are you? You look well. Tired, maybe, but…”

Jason shrugs. “Drug bust in Gotham last night. Didn’t get the chance to sleep, but I’m not the moron who probably hasn’t slept in days. Right? And probably only for a few hours, too, knowing you.” Dick squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

“Jason--”

“No, no,  _ no. _ ” The taller grabs his shoulder to force him to listen, and Dick flinches  _ way  _ too hard. “What the fuck was that? Obviously, something happened. You don’t get to shut me out and act like Bruce.”

“Oh, please! Every time someone  _ mentions  _ emotions you freak out and--”

“I’m not you!” Jason exhales angrily. “Okay? You’re… super emotional. You support people, you’re happy, and comfortable. Usually, anyway. You look like shit.”

Dick scoffs. “ _ Thanks. _ ”

“Yeah, you probably look better than you feel, jackass.” A silence briefly falls over them, but Jason seems to remember what they were talking about and immediately pushes. “So?”

The older sighs heavily, and allows himself to look away into the Bludhaven night sky. “Nothing happened to me, Jason.” A broad smile forms -- one he had been practicing for a while. “I’m just a little stressed about work. Cool?”

There’s a terrifying moment where the younger doesn’t seem convinced, but eventually, he accepts it. “Fine. Let’s just get done with this. What are we doing again?”

Dick’s expression goes cold. “We’re going after Tarantula.”


End file.
